


and feeling lost

by justdoityoufucker



Category: Naruto
Genre: (on the part of one Hatake Kakashi), Alternate Universe, Canon - Manga, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Radical Misconceptions about Umino Iruka's Character, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-12 14:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdoityoufucker/pseuds/justdoityoufucker
Summary: Umino Iruka apparently does stupid things while high on painkillers. For example, yelling at the Hokage and his elite guard.Completely hypothetically, of course.





	and feeling lost

When Iruka wakes up after Naruto and Mizuki and the scroll, the only thing that he’s really aware of is that his back hurts like  _ hell _ . Of course, there are other things--like, he is actually in the hospital which is probably for the best, Anko’s passed out next to his bed, and wow the sun is bright. But in the grand scheme of things the pain is most pressing.

He moves to sit up, and Anko awakens with a jerk. “‘ruka!” she slurs, rubbing her eyes and pushing her loose hair back from her face.

As much as he would like to say something, his throat is doing its best imitation of the deserts surrounding Sunagakure, so he settles on using gesturing to her. She seems to get the question he’s asking, resettles herself and presses the call button.

“Got back last night, was getting a poison workup when they brought you in,” she says, searching one of her pouches for a hair tie. She comes up with two hooked on her fingers, snaps one around her own unruly hair before standing up. Iruka tips his head forward when she gestures for him to do so, sighs noisily as she pulls his hair up. “I’m glad I didn’t miss it.”

Iruka can only manage an inquiring look as a nurse comes in, pulling a cart. He takes Iruka’s vitals before turning to the cart and getting out a venipuncture kit; Anko queasily turns away while he takes a vial of Iruka’s blood. She turns back only after the nurse has set a jug of water and a glass on the rolling table, and slid them to sit in front of Iruka.

“Oshiro-san will be in as soon as she is done with another patient,” the nurse says, hanging his clipboard on the wall. “She’ll need to check your back; we’ll turn you over when it’s time for that. The shuriken that wounded you did have remnants of poison on it; you were put on a round of antivenin last night but to ensure that there’s nothing left in your system we need to test your blood again. Once you’ve held down some water you’ll get food,” and he nods to Anko before packing the cart back up and leaving.

Iruka gratefully takes the glass of water that the nurse had poured him, sips it as Anko sighs and starts talking.

“So apparently you made it back to the village with that brat--Naruto--last night, but you collapsed before making it here. I think Asuma said he ran into the two of you,” she presses a finger to her lips, chews on her nail, “he got you to the hospital after you explained what happened.

“There were a lot of people,” she says in a half-whine, “I think Gai said he picked up Mizuki. Or maybe it was Genma? Whatever, someone picked him up and they brought him to the hospital, too, he has an Anbu guard ‘cause Kotetsu and Izumo heard about what he did to you and started a lynch mob.”

Iruka’s face reddens. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve his friends; now is one of those times.

“But, last night,” she pours him more water, settles her chin on one hand, eyeballs him. “Do you really not remember?”

“No?” he replies croakily. Her dancing around the actual point is becoming alarming.

“Okay, so keep in mind that by this point they had given you painkillers and I’m pretty sure you were high as a fucking kite.” Oh, that is not reassuring. “The Hokage came to talk with you and you, er. Began yelling at him.”

Oh, no. Iruka can feel his face--no, his whole  _ body _ going red with embarrassment.

“There was a lot of ‘warning signs’ and ‘shitty care of orphans’ being mentioned,” she muses, “in your words, of course. I thought Asuma was gonna die. Or start a fanclub for you. Wait, maybe he did, would he let me join?”

“ _ Anko _ ,” he croaks out, desperation making his voice even hoarser.

She refocuses her attention on him. “Oh, yeah, then you started in on the Anbu.”

That’s when he slaps a hand over his face, not caring that it pulls at his back in a way that burns. Fucking hell, maybe it’s time for him to retire as a shinobi and go live in a house in the woods. A shack would be fine, really, and he’s only snapped out of his considerations of what color to paint this hypothetical shack when Anko clears her throat.

“Iruka.” Her face is very grave. “You chewed out  _ Hatake Kakashi _ for not keeping an eye on Naruto.”

He makes a strangled noise in his throat, and slaps his other hand over his face as well.

-

Going back to normal life after being in the hospital for the better part of a week is strange. He’s still on low-dose painkillers but they don’t really help with the three flights of stairs that lead to his apartment. By the time he makes it home from the hospital with antibiotics, painkillers, and a chaperone in the form of Asuma, he’s ready to to pass out for roughly a billion years and never go out in public again.

“Doin’ alright there?” Asuma asks as he uses his own set of keys to let them into Iruka’s apartment.

“Fantastic.”

Asuma snorts, waits until Iruka’s inside the apartment before following. He hovers as Iruka sits and slowly peels his shoes off, shadows him as he shuffles into the kitchen to set his bag of medicine down.

Everything looks immaculately clean, and that’s wrong. Iruka is ashamed of it, but to hell with that shame, he’s a slob. “Did someone break in to clean up my apartment while I was passed out?” he asks Asuma, fetching a glass so he can take a dose of painkillers.

“Ah, yeah,” Asuma rubs the back of his head with one hand, almost in an embarrassed way, “I let Kurenai and Gai in. They wanted to make sure you didn’t have to deal with anything once you got back.”

“Gai?” Iruka asks. Yeah, he knows of the man and he’s encountered him a handful of times at the mission desk and because of his students, but-- _ this _ ?

Asuma grimaces. “You’re going to have to ask him. I don’t really know what’s going on.”

Iruka has a feeling that’s a lie, but he lets it go. Too tired, too messed up by medication. “Thanks,” he says, and he means it. He and Asuma have drifted apart over the past couple years but the older man is still like a brother to him.

Asuma gives him a crooked smile and a half-hug, trying to avoid his stitches and mostly failing. “If you need anything, Iru-chan,” he says, ruffling Iruka’s hair and earning an indignant squeak, “I’m sure my sisters would love to drop by.”

“Might take you up on that offer.” Iruka offers him a smile, and then is ushered unceremoniously back to the couch.

“I’ll tell them later, you should be resting.”

“Yes, thank you, mother,” Iruka rolls his eyes, but does as told.

Truth be told, it’s sort of nice to have Asuma fussing over him like he used to when they were kids and Iruka would get sick what felt like every month. It isn’t often that he’s on the receiving end of the fussing, in any case, so he’s milking it for all it’s worth.

“Do you want me to set wards?” Asuma asks after fetching the glass of water from the kitchen and setting it on the coffee table.

“Nah, Anko said she was going to stop by,” Iruka flaps a hand at him. “Don’t you have work to be doing?”

“Now that you mention it,” he tugs a fresh toothpick out of a pocket, perches on the opposite arm of the sofa, “I got some of your kids. Ino-Shika-Chou. You taught them pretty well.”

“Huh,” Iruka would have had a hand in all the assignments but for the fact he was, you know, in the hospital. That’s a good team, though, and he isn’t surprised they passed whatever test Asuma set them to.

“I suppose I should go see if they’re at the training ground,” Asuma glances at the clock on Iruka’s bookshelf. “I was supposed to meet them at ten.”

It is well into the midafternoon. Iruka manages to wrest one of his feet out from under the blankets Asuma piled on him and kick the other man in the ass. That earns an eye roll, but Asuma stands and mock-salutes him. “Rest up. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

It’s Iruka’s turn to roll his eyes. He watches Asuma head back to the door, and by then the temptation that has been building since Anko first told him is overwhelming.

“Hey, did you really start a fanclub for me?” Iruka calls, and Asuma’s reply is to flip him off, and slam the door shut. And, really, that tells him all he needs to know.

-

Going back to work is not just strange, it’s completely bullshit crazy. People who have never acknowledged him before take the time to say hello. Nobody at the mission desk tries to pull  _ anything _ , including all of the jounin who used to think that tormenting Iruka was the best way to pass time. The Academy is even stranger; all his fellow teachers treat him with the utmost respect and no less than three of them send him flowers or offer to take him out for lunch.

By day four of being back he’s mostly used to it. It helps that school is out on break--though he’s disappointed he missed graduation--and he has only a few shifts in the mission room to ease him back into the drudgery.

It’s on one such shift, when he’s getting up to stretch and file some finished scrolls that he runs right into Hatake Kakashi.

Literally, he runs into Kakashi and drops half of the scrolls he’s carrying. If he wasn’t full of irrational conviction to apologize to the man he would probably say he’s sorry for doing that, but as it is he merely crouches to pick up the scrolls and hesitantly asks, “Hatake-san?”

The man flinches, as if he had been caught doing something bad. “Can I help you, Umino-sensei?” His tone is haughty, and maybe a little terrified. As if that wasn’t telling, he shoves his hands into his pockets and stands stock-still, tense.

“Ah, well, in a way,” the mortification that he had first felt in the hospital room is very quickly returning, “I wanted to say I’m sorry about what I said to you a few weeks ago. It wasn’t my place to say what I did. Or  _ the _ place.”

If Iruka isn’t imagining things, Kakashi appears to be sizing him up or in some way trying to judge his sincerity. The man’s shoulders slump a little, tension released, and he says, “I understand why you said what you did. Mizuki shouldn’t have been able to get as far as he did. Naruto should have had someone watching him, or at least taking care of him.”

They both sigh heavily, and in unintentional tandem. As awkward as the whole encounter is, it feels like the air between them has been somewhat cleared, and that’s what matters to Iruka.

“If there’s any way I can make it up to you,” he begins, because  _ damn _ he feels bad still, but Kakashi raises a hand, his visible eye curving up into what seems to be a smile.

“Maa, don’t worry about it, sensei. Your yelling at Hokage was more than enough for that,” he says, casual but amused. “Though I wouldn’t mind hearing your opinions on governmental reform, if you’re ever free.” With that, he throws Iruka a wave and body-flickers away.

Iruka gets his scrolls filed and is on his way back to the desk when he realizes, with an abrupt dizziness, that Kakashi was flirting with him.

-

By the time the Academy resumes he’s back to normal. Relatively. There’s still pain and with the amount of scar tissue he’s lost some mobility, which he’s in physical therapy to help, but overall he doesn’t have much trouble getting around day-to-day. It helps, in a way, that Naruto is no longer his student, because it means that he has so much more energy to spend actually teaching. None of the kids in his new class have even a fraction of the manic energy that Naruto has.

And, frankly, being with Naruto not as a teacher but as something like an older brother is much more relaxing than he thought it would be. That is, it’s relaxing until Naruto barges into his apartment one evening and begins complaining about his genin team. Iruka does half-ignore him, because Kurenai gave him a recipe for tonkatsu and he doesn’t want to fuck it up, but when Naruto loudly derides one “Kakashi-sensei” he nearly drops the carton of eggs.

“Kakashi-sensei?” he asks, returning the carton to the safety of the fridge. Kurenai and Asuma he knows about, because they told him, but he still doesn’t know who else the Hokage assigned as jounin teachers. He should ask for the list when he goes to the Tower for his next shift.

“Yeah, he’s dumb and tries to be cool but he’s  _ always _ late for training and he doesn’t let us do any good missions,” Naruto is stretched across the table, hitting Iruka full-force with the puppy dog eyes.

“You just became a genin a couple weeks ago,” Iruka reminds him, “you’ll be stuck with D-ranks for a while. Get used to it.”

Naruto makes a half-hearted attempt at pouting. “But they’re so boring and Sasuke barely works with us and Sakura is always going ‘Sasuke-kuuun pay attention to me’ so I always get stuck doing all the work.”

“Tell your sensei to make them help you,” Iruka says, dropping the first cutlet into the pot of oil and hovering over the stove with his chopsticks ready.

“But he’s always reading his books and he never pays attention to us,” Naruto complains.

Iruka has to roll his eyes. It is pretty much impossible for someone not to pay attention to Naruto, even if they’re a highly trained jounin. “Try harder.”

Naruto continues grumbling to himself while Iruka deep fries the pork cutlets. It’s the first time he’s actually cooked a full meal in what feels like (and probably is) years, and it has been much easier than he thought. Having a working rice cooker helps--Gai apparently fixed it when he and Kurenai cleaned--and likewise having his kitchen organized in a simpler fashion helps.

He halves the cabbage he shredded beforehand, gets a jar of pickles out. Naruto drags himself up to get bowls for the rice, and his eyes are wide with delight when he sees the tonkatsu. It isn’t ramen, but there’s something about sharing a meal with the boy that is good for both of them. It feels--like family.

Once they’ve finished eating and washed up the dishes, Iruka scrounges out the last of the sesame dumplings that Anko bought him. Naruto is already waiting at the Go board and shoves two of the dumplings in his mouth without so much as a thank you as Iruka starts the game. Teaching Naruto to play Go has been much more pleasant than the two years of attempted schooling Iruka provided him. It seems that, once the necessity of learning was taken away, Naruto feels fine and dandy with being taught things.

Hence, Go.

The game isn’t done by ten o’clock, by which time Iruka’s back is flaring up and Naruto is barely awake. It started raining sometime during and Naruto lives across the village, so Iruka gets him a pillow and blankets for the couch.

He had criticized the Hokage for not taking care of Naruto. Maybe--maybe he could just take that upon himself.

-

It’s too damn early when Iruka is awoken by the familiar pop of someone body-flickering into the living room, where he is sleeping on the couch. It isn’t that uncommon--Anko does it often, and occasionally Kurenai and Asuma stop by. His first reaction is to ignore them and go back to sleep, but that doesn’t last long.

“Pardon my intrusion,” a familiar voice says, and Iruka pushes the blanket off of his head. What the  _ fuck _ is Hatake Kakashi doing in his apartment at six in the morning on a Sunday?

“Can I help you, Hatake-san?” he asks, not caring that the man is literally standing in the living room staring at him with a perplexed look on his face. Yeah, that’s not Iruka’s fault, he just finds the couch is better for his back when he’s particularly stiff. Plus, it’s not like he expected  _ Hatake Kakashi _ to appear in his living room.

“I can come back later,” the jounin says, a little desperately. He looks a little red and he’s definitely trying not to make eye contact.

Iruka waves a hand as if to say ‘don’t bother’ and scrounges a hair-tie from the coffee table to get the fringe out of his face. “It’s fine. What did you need?”

“I came to ask about,” a pause, hesitation, “Naruto.”

“Don’t tell me he passed out at the ramen stand again,” Iruka automatically says. It earns a strange look from Kakashi.

“No, I wanted to ask about his seal,” Kakashi says, “nobody I’ve asked so far knows about it and I don’t particularly want to bring it up with the Hokage.”

“What about his seal?”

“Have you noticed, in your capacity as his teacher at the Academy, that he tends to tap into the Kyuubi’s chakra when affected emotionally?” Kakashi’s tone is both curious and concerned.

“Yeah,” Iruka shoves the blankets off. Might as well get breakfast if he’s awake. “That’s normal with the type of seal he has. It is possible to seal an eight trigrams in such a way that it does completely cut off whatever it’s sealing from what it’s sealed in.”

“Wait,” Kakashi hesitantly follows him into the kitchen, leans against the doorway and watches Iruka start water and rice, “if it’s an eight trigrams it would have a key, wouldn’t it?”   
“Yes,” Iruka yawns, digs out a container of miso paste from the fridge. “I would presume that Jiraiya is in possession of that; Naruto definitely doesn’t have it. Or it might simply be in the possession of the village, with the other Uzumaki possessions.”

There is something like surprise or wonder in Kakashi’s eye as he continues to watch Iruka. “You are versed in the ways of fuinjutsu?”

Iruka affords him a small half-smile. “My parents were from Uzushiogakure. If you want to fully close the seal, I would suggest writing first to Jiraiya before going to the Hokage.”

Kakashi nods, eye still on Iruka. “Thank you for your assistance, Iruka-sensei,” he says in what is almost a purr. With an eye-smile and a wave, he flickers away.

“Pick a more normal time to stop by next time,” Iruka mutters to himself once alone, turning the rice cooker to warm and letting the miso cook. At least he doesn’t have work, he considers as he warms up a towel to put on his back. Things could be worse.

-

He’s concerned when the Hokage gives Team 7 the mission to the Land of Waves. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Kakashi to make sure they survive, but it’s just the general feeling he gets when he sees Tazuna. Wave doesn’t have any shinobi villages, it’s true, but they do have a booming mercenary trade and have dropped nearly all import and export allowances from other countries.

Iruka isn’t that old, but he knows a brewing disaster when he sees it.

A week and a half after their departure, his instincts are confirmed when a messenger bird arrives from Kakashi detailing their initial encounter with Momichi Zabuza. The Hokage sits on his hands for enough days that by the time he decides to send a second team out, Kakashi has written again and informed them that Momichi Zabuza has been killed and the building of the bridge is back to normal. The same day the Hokage sends a bird back telling Team 7 to remain in Wave until the building is complete.

Iruka is very close to ripping his hair out by the time the final bird comes saying that the team is on their way back. It’s been nearly a month in total, and the entire time Iruka has been wallowing in a pit of mixed worry and fear for not just Naruto, but his teammates and Kakashi as well.

It seems that he needn’t have worried when they return, though. All three genin are sporting tans and look none the worse for wear. Even Kakashi’s silver hair seems bleached a few shades lighter than it had been.

There are many things that Iruka wants to ask or say to Kakashi, but what ends up coming out is, “Do you want to come over for dinner?”

-

Perhaps Naruto’s presence should have been requested, but as it is he’s at Sakura’s house with his teammates and Iruka and Kakashi’s dinner feels like a date.

He’s internally screaming just a little, truth be told.

At least he has Kurenai, who stops by because Asuma made way too much sata andagi and they don’t just want to share with his team. She helps him come up with what to make (though he carefully omits mention of who it is he is having over for dinner) and agrees, from the sheer selfless kindness that wells up from her heart, not to tell Anko or Asuma.

The gyudon is just finishing up when Kakashi arrives by flickering into the living room. Like weeks before, Iruka is on the couch, but the main reason is because he hurt his back while working in the Tower archives.

“I meant to tell you,” Kakashi says, with zero introduction or hello, “Jiraiya wrote back.”

Iruka looks at him.

“I asked him about the seal and our options,” he says.

Iruka nods, then points at the other man, “Shoes off. Then talk.”

While Kakashi rolls his eyes and does that, Iruka heaves himself up and goes to get the gyudon.

Kakashi finds his way into the kitchen after that, actually raises his eyebrow at the spread. Iruka does his best to ignore that.

Dinner takes a surprisingly pleasant hour where Kakashi actually holds up his end of the conversation. Iruka is feeling pleasantly warm and fuzzy by the time they finish eating and Kakashi insists on doing the dishes, and though most of their talk has revolved around work and Kakashi’s team, Iruka feels like he has a rather good grasp on the other man.

With tea and Asuma’s sata andagi, they spend another hour and a half talking in the living room. Iruka decides, by that point, that he’s screwed and he made the worst decision by asking Kakashi over for dinner. The man is kind and witty and he still seems to be a little terrified by Iruka. Especially when Iruka starts talking the specifics of seals, but since most of his face is covered it might also be awe.

Eventually, as all good things must, the evening comes to an end.

“May I ask after the occasion for this meal?” Kakashi has his sandals on, and is standing by the door like he’s actually going to leave like a normal person.

“I wanted to thank you,” Iruka steps into the entryway, “for what you’ve done for Naruto. And I still feel bad about my breakdown at the hospital.”

“I really should be thanking you for Naruto,” Kakashi says, a fond expression somehow visible on his face. Boy, if Iruka wasn’t blushing before he is now, “he’s done very well thanks to your guidance. And he won’t stop talking about you so it’s nice to actually get to know you without the orange filter.”

Iruka takes a breath and hopes that he isn’t too red when he says, “I’m glad you think so; I had fun tonight. Good night, Kakashi-sensei.”

“Well, sensei,” Kakashi slyly says, “turning me out without a kiss?”

“Considering how agreeable you have been,” Iruka says, “why not.”

That is obviously not the answer Kakashi is expecting, and he freezes in place, fixes Iruka with his one-eyed stare. “What?”

Iruka rolls his eyes, “Come here, you idiot.”

Kakashi dumbly does as told, and doesn’t complain when Iruka pulls his mask down, and kisses him lightly on the lips.

“What the hell,” Kakashi says breathlessly, but one of his arms is around Iruka’s back and he has the goofiest smile on his face.

“Well, apparently I’m impulsive,” Iruka tugs Kakashi’s mask back up, “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, soon.”


End file.
